Five Times Alfred Pennyworth Was Frustrated
by legendarytobes
Summary: AU - Series of five vignettes looking at the complicated and conflicted relationship between Chloe Sullivan and Bruce Wayne over the years.


Five Times Alfred Pennyworth was Frustrated by Chloe and Bruce

I. Meeting

The girl was maybe two, maybe not quite. She toddled well enough and was adorable with golden curls and a diminutive stature, so different from the tall brunette who was her mother.

Chloe, that was her name.

"Thomas, we'd love to stay a few extra days, really," Gabe replied, taking a sip of his Coke. Alfred noted that Gabe Sullivan simply was not a brandy and cigar man. "But opera? I'm sorry. Theater stops at maybe a taping of Saturday Night Live . I just can't do fat ladies in viking helmets."

"It's a little more complicated than that," Master Wayne defended, pointing at Chloe. "We're taking Bruce, giving him a little bit of culture."

"He's eight."

"Almost nine. It's never too early to start."

Moira nodded. "And that's why we read Chloe The Daily Planet every night. I just don't think a two year old at the opera would work well. It's way past her bed time."

"With us," Martha intoned, "You wouldn't have to worry what Chloe did."

At that moment, Chloe chose to lean over and shove Warrior Angel-Bruce's favorite action figure and not doll as he'd explained over and over to Alfred-in her mouth.

He yanked it back out and started shouting at her, all of it disolving into a melee. Alfred sighed and collected both children to take to the nursery. No, Chloe Sullivan was not ready for high culture yet.

II. Christmas

Chloe had grown. She was twelve now and, although short (Alfred knew looking at her she'd never be the Amazon Moira had been), she was so ferociously energetic that he felt she was bigger than she actually was.

She'd been rushing around the party, asking the most inappropriate questions of the rich and entitled and he'd had to laugh at their reactions. It wasn't that Gabe was a bad single father. He wasn't. Chloe Sullivan, with her incessant need to be a cub reporter, was just more than one man could handle. As Bruce's erstwhile guardian, Alfred could sympathize.

He hadn't seen Chloe for a while as he started cleaning the first round of crystal in the kitchen and he knew that couldn't bode well. Children like Chloe didn't get quiet, they got distracted with trouble.

He'd been a father long enough to know that.

"Bruce, please, you can't tell my dad!" A familiar voice hissed as Chloe and his charge burst into the kitchen. Bruce was nineteen now and towered at 6'2 over Chloe. He took one stride for every three of hers.

"Chloe, you almost fell down the well. I think he has a right to know how far you've been wandering the property."

"And he'll ground me for the next five years. It's Christmas, have some mercy!"

Bruce sighed. "It was a stupid error on your part."

She reached out and grabbed the cuff of his tuxedo. Bruce, please, I know you don't have a dad but they're really tough."

Incorrect thing to say.

Bruce stiffened and his jaw clenched. "Gabe needs to know."

"Master Wayne, Miss Sullivan, perhaps you'd both like to help me clean the flatware. There are quite a few dishes that need to be cleaned. Surely, Master Wayne, you can agree that's more than enough punishment?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Alfred but nodded. "Fine."

As both rolled up their sleeves to help him, Alfred thought that Bruce knew very much what it was like to have a father still.

III. Scoop

There were few people who ever saw the batcave. There had been Rachel Dawes, the loss of whom still haunted Master Wayne daily. There had been the Joker once before Master Wayne had shrugged off his poison and been able to take the batcave back. There was, of course, Alfred himself.

So it was not entirely Alfred's fault that he was so shocked to see Gotham Gazette intern and up and coming reporter, Chloe Sullivan standing in front of the monster that the press had affectionately dubbed the Batmobile.

"Shit, Bruce, it's bigger in person."

Master Wayne, still emaculately dressed in a three piece suit, sighed. "I suppose it is."

The grin almost split Miss Sullivan's face. "This is smoking cool."

"Miss Sullivan, Master Wayne, may I inquire as to what the Hell is going on?"

Bruce frowned at the shattered dishes. "No dinner tonight for one. For another, Fawkes here can reverse engineer a tracker."

"No, I have an uncle who is military and some good connections with Cousin Lois. Besides, how fair was it Batz that you could have me tracked but I couldn't touch you?"

Alfred hid his grin, someone gave as good as she got. "Miss Sullivan, I had no idea-"

"Can it, Pennyworth, clearly you knew. I don't like my indentity breached and I certainly don't appreciate being tracked."

"Yet you let it slide for a year."

"I needed a scoop. I can't get the 'Bruce Wayne, Dark Knight' expose but I did want to come here and compare superhero toys." She rolled her eyes and held out her palm, which Alfred noted was glowing a bright gold. He didn't blink. He'd seen his fair share and then some of meta abilities over the years as Master Wayne's faithful assistant.

"I see."

"Definitely and a car this cool? Totally trumps immortality. So, Bruce, when do I get to drive?"

IV. The Cat

The vase in the salon shattered.

Alfred rushed in just in time to use long buried military instinct and training to catch a hurled Fabrege egg. He never got the credit he deserved. He'd just saved Master Wayne several thousand dollars. Now, the Ming vase he couldn't help.

It shattered into a million pieces in the force of Chloe's wrath.

"You slept with her."

It was bizarre to see Bruce and Chloe, Batman and Fawkes, fighting in full costume. It added a pettiness to their fearsome alter egos that Alfred had hoped was beneath them both, maybe he was wrong.

Master Wayne held his cowled head high. "Excuse me."

Crash. Crystal flower vase this time and they had a lot of those, all that Baroque style.

"You. Slept. With. Her."

"Catwoman?"

"Do you even know her name? Was it masks on, you asshole?"

"Chloe, I can explain-" Bruce started only to duck a marble paper weight aimed at his face.

"Explain faster. I don't care if you're a ninja, I will hurt you."

Alfred had seen Chloe unleash her power in full force. He didn't doubt that she could do just that.

"It just happened."

"Nothing 'just happens' with you, Bruce, nothing. So it was calculated. Was this about me? About how I won't commit?"

"No."

That was honest. Alfred doubted either Miss Sullivan or Master Wayne could truly commit to a relationship, not with the loss of most of their parents so young, leaving both wouned and distrustful.

"Then why her? She's a criminal, Bruce. You're supposed to take her to jail. Remember jail. It's what superheroes do!"

"She got away."

Crash.

"Bullshit. You know, I'm done with you," she finished, spinning on her heels, cape flaring behind her. "Alfred, goodbye."

V. The Ghost

"You're playing with him," Master Wayne said as Miss Sullivan bandaged the small cut on his cheek. He deferred a quick and dirty heal.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The Ghost. J'onn saw you in The Narrows together three nights ago."

"J'onn saw or it was read off of me at a meeting?"

Master Wayne was a good liar but Miss Sullivan was a better reporter. "No."

"Bullshit as always. I said I'd take care of him, unless J'onn wants to be set on fire with a look and you want to be pounded into a million pieces. He's humoring all of us. This guy...he could take down the whole League, even Diana. He's that powerful."

"You've bought his lines."

"He can fly, has J'onn's strength and none of his weakness, and more powers than even I can keep track of. What would you call it?"

"Godlike," Alfred replied, setting down the tea tray and handing Chloe a cup. "This is her turn, Master Bruce, you do understand that?"

"Because The Ghost is-"

Alfred cut him off before jealousy confused the issue. "Because this is between immortals, isn't is Miss Sullivan."

Chloe looked up at him in and in the emerald depth of her eyes, Alfred could see her resolve flicker just the slightest bit.

"Yes, yes it is."


End file.
